Stasis
by Elske
Summary: A short vignette about Isas (Crane), Niva (Rosethorn) and Camoc at Lightsbridge university. Slash.


Author's notes:

I honestly don't know where this came from, I really don't. I'm in the process of a longer, better Rosethorn (Niva) and Crane (Isas) friendship fic…this just sort of happened. It was inspired by the part in "Briar's Book" where Rosethorn tells Daja about being at university with Crane – it seemed to me that they were both rather miserable then. It was also inspired by the part in "Cold Fire" where Camoc innocently inquires about Dedicate Crane.

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Warning, this contains overtly slashy Crane and what could be considered covertly slashy Rosethorn. [Rosethorn/Lark _is_ a canon pairing, after all. However, if that bothers you, you can think that she's pining after someone else at home…] As a more important warning, this story is also very schizophrenic and contains very bad grammar. Sentence fragments abound. Anyway, on with the show. ^_~

~*Elske*~

"Stasis"

by Elske

They were strong hands. Isas could feel the power in the hands. They were hands that held strength and carried death; hands that wielded a sharp axe, capable of felling the tallest and mightiest trees. Strong hands, powerful hands, wonderful hands. Hands that awakened life, yet promised death.

He reached out and clasped the hands in his own, drawing them away from his chest, where they had been resting. Over his heart. "Camoc," he murmured drowsily, "have you ever cut down trees?"

The other man laughed softly. "Cut down trees?" He echoed, amused by the strange question. "How could you have known that? Yes, of course. I'm Namornese; almost all the men end up doing some sort of lumberjacking." He smiled slowly, bringing Isas' hands closer, kissing them gently. 

Strong hands and a powerful embrace, a powerful presence, entirely. _He could shape you, change you, make you wonderful. Hasn't he already?_ Whispered a small voice in the back of Isas' head. _He has the power to make you beautiful, make you magic. But first he must kill you, first he must kill you, first…_They were strange thoughts, not the usual thoughts that were supposed to be running through a man's head at a time like this. _Make you, shape you, change you, kill you, make you magic, kill you, kill you, kill you._ He cried out, once, but it didn't matter; his lover didn't notice. 

He was a tree; Isas was a tree. He was the earth, he was life, he was green magic. He was the turning of the earth, he was the changing of the seasons. He was alive, he was growing, he was a tree. 

And he was dying, in this place.

It was later, much much later, when he figured things out. He sat on the roof of the university, looking out at the countryside, at the golden sun dipping near the horizon. He and his companion sat in silence for a long moment, and then Isas turned to her and asked "Is it always like dying?"

She turned to look at him, confusion in her eyes for a moment. She seemed pale and drained, as she'd been since they'd come to this place. They hadn't liked each other before, but found comfort in their shared misery. At the end of the three years they would go back to the friendly hatred they'd shared before, as if the time spent in this purgatory never happened at all. "What? Sex? Or love?" Niva smiled for a moment, reflexively reaching up to brush the naked back of her neck. It still felt odd – she'd spent the first twenty-two years of her life only just tolerating her long hair, only to find herself missing it once she cut it all off. Such, she supposed, was life. "I don't know why I bother asking, I wouldn't know about either." There was a touch of bitterness in her voice, only a touch. It was, after all, her own fault. Mostly. 

"Either, or both." Isas sighed, a heartbreaking sigh. "I love him. I know I do. Yet…"

Another moment passed in silence, before Niva spoke. "He's a carpentry mage. Camoc is." She knew, she'd known from the beginning…but she didn't tell Isas. He was a man grown, let him fight his own battles, let him make his own mistakes. "He's a carpentry mage, and you're a plant mage. You both have a shared affinity …"

"Yet his are always dead." There was a light of recognition in Isas' eyes, as he turned to look at Niva. "Of course. It'll never work." Because Isas was a tree, inside he was a tree. A tree living. And the carpenter was his natural foe. 

"It could. You're not really a tree." She attempted for a hopeful tone, but only achieved doubtful.

"So you say. So you say." Isas smiled a small strained smile. "But you're wilting here, Niva."

"We both are." Niva closed her eyes, the sharp pains of homesickness wrapping around her body. She wanted to be home, back in her gardens, back in the cheerful little cottage she was promised as a reward for surviving the three years of exile, back with people who cared about her, back with the one person who might have loved her if she'd only allowed it.

"There's nothing alive in this place…nothing at all." He'd thought that at the beginning, from the moment they stepped into the dusty, ancient, hallowed halls of the university. For a time, he'd been convinced otherwise, thinking that love, that friendship could grow, could change things. But he'd been wrong. It all fell to pieces, crumbled to dust. He'd have to break off his love affair…there was no other way. And so he was destined to return to his own tragic solitude. Alone. But alive. 

The two plant-mages sat in silence, watching the sun set. Someday they would return to the sunlight, break free of the stasis. Someday, but not today. 


End file.
